I’m a key.
I may not look like much, just a little piece of brass with bumps and ridges.
But I am a key, and keys have a secret power.
I can open something.
I don’t know what it is because my owner hasn’t used me yet, but I’m sure that it is something important and significant,
because if it isn’t, why would I be made?
Maybe I open a door or a safe holding the most valuable thing in the world,
or perhaps I even start a car! Imagine all the places I could go if that is my purpose.
I can’t wait to be used!
But….
Right now I am stuck in the palm of my owner.
she grasps me tightly, as if she is afraid she will lose me,
and that would be a disaster.
How could I open something if I’m lost?
No, no, I can’t think like that. I know that my owner will use me,
and I’ll open something special to her!
It is just a little uncomfortable in here between these clammy fingers.
It is mostly dark, but there are slight cracks of light breaking across the black.
I wonder where we are going. Maybe to the new house that I can open the door to?
That would be a good use, I think, to be the thing that lets a family into their home.
I just wish my owner would use me for once.
And then, as if hearing my wish, the fingers peel back, exposing me to the outside world.
The first thing I notice is the brightness.
After being in the dark for so long, the lights hanging from the ceilings are bright enough to reflect off me.
The second thing I notice is my owner.
It is a little girl with pigtails and a grin filled with crooked teeth.
This is who has been carrying me all this time?
Now that I am out in the open, she grips me gently, as if she is afraid she’ll break me.
The last thing I notice is the room of pink and purple around us.
Fluffy pillows are thrown about, and millions upon millions of stuffed animals inhabit the room. 
Well, if we were already in a room, that means that I didn’t open a door,
Or start a car,
But there is still hope!
I can still open a safe, or a cage for a bird, or a---
“Hiya, Mr. Key. Sorry for holding you so tightly. I didn’t want to drop you.”
The girl speaks so sweetly, I forget what I am rambling about. Her blonde pigtails swish as she shakes her head.
“You are really important. You are going to open the box Papa gave me before he left to fight in the war!
It hasn’t been opened yet, but now that I’m five, Mommy said I can open it! I’m so excited.”
Even though I am a key, and am fully brass, my imaginary heart breaks a little.
So my young owner brings me to the keyhole, the one I know that I was meant to be put in,
and turns me in the momentary darkness.
I hear a click, and I am being pulled back out, and light blinds me again.
My owner gasps and pulls out an album of pictures of a baby and a man, a letter, and lots of little knick-knacks
that I’m sure have some sort of sentimental meaning.
There are tears in her eyes.
I am a key.
I might not be used for something as amazing as opening doors, or starting cars.
I will never get to open the safe holding infinite riches or open a hamster cage.
But I have the best purpose in the world to this little girl.
And that is all that matters to me.